


On a sore wound

by LePipi



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Poverty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 05:18:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2179392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LePipi/pseuds/LePipi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wade had been left to roam the apartment while Peter was out on one of his important meetings. Not having much to explore in the small space, he lets his mind wander.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On a sore wound

**Author's Note:**

> Watch out for suicide and self-deprecating, depression and general instability! Also, there's a super fluffy part! :D
> 
> Read the clarification at the end please!

Wade was stuck to waste the day all by himself, again. He’d sent Peter off on that ‘super important meeting where they discuss actions crucial to humanity’s survival’ that same morning. Groggy with sleep and disorientation, he’d _barely_ gotten a kiss goodbye.

It was around three pm, and he sat stewing in his new-found house-wifeyness. Well, he wasn’t so much of a house-wife, as much as a couch potato. No jobs were on the prowl. Actually, no jobs Peter would approve of. Which cut his freelance assassin status to maybe-give-that-guy-a-kick-but-not-too-hard-now freeloader. Or would ‘gold digger’ be more appropriate? The situation being as it was, Peter was the sole provider for a good 4 months now. But, Peter brought back _scraps_ , enough to last them the month, and not a luxury more. Even so, Wade _was_ living off of his salary. Which, yeah, _did_ make him a gold digger, adding the fact they were bed-buddies for a solid 2 years.

Boyfriends, love-birds, partners, lovers, date-mates…

It didn’t matter.

Peter had asked, and Wade had agreed. Tentatively, but so flushed with excitement he didn’t even try containing himself. Peter wanted him, and what Petey wants, Petey gets. Even if it weren’t one of his best decisions.

Wade was just _not_ the boyfriend for his hero.

Their living situation was _shit_. It just was. Three rooms apartment, with a balcony so tight you have to walk it out sideways. The food you cooked lingered on in the living room, smells you were stuck with for days. But hey, he was proud of the TV. It was one of the things he brought with himself when they decided to move together. It was wide and thin, hacked in _so_ good they had access to what’s going on in Nauru. They never really checked how’s Nauru doing, but Wade was proud he could give even such a meaningless thing as television to his boyfriend’s needs.

But, that’s _all_ he did to better their living. He tried painting the walls. And then Peter had to scold him because the apartment still belonged to the building, and it had to be kept in the same condition it was bought. Sooo, _that_ was a mess.

He’d tried learning how to cook. He was good at that. He learned a lot of fancy meals that Peter loved, and that was a month of warmth for Wade. Having his Petey praising him for something he made, thanking him and caressing him…

And then they realized it just couldn’t continue. No matter how sweet it was for Wade to do that, they just couldn’t afford wasting all that money on fresh fruits and vegetables, not to mention the 50 dollars for 50 grams of spice (even if it _was_ made with the blood-soaked hands of the Himalayan mountain virgins (which it wasn’t, Peter assured him)). Wasn’t that one hell of a heartbreak? Having to be sat down for a ‘talk’, shaking for fear of the inevitable, only to have your boyfriend smile sadly with his brown doe-eyes and tell you ‘We can’t afford full meals.’. To hear that you, the older, stronger, more experienced part of the duo is wasting _his_ money. That even making your boyfriend happy is taking away from him. That even while keeping the murderous part of himself locked and chained for Peter’s sake, for a chance at being kept and hold onto, he _still_ fucked up in the most childish way.

It was just so _hard_ trying to be a good guy when none of the good guys would hire you. And the only good guy that _actually wants_ to help you out, _can’t_ , because he’s _so_ good, he actually saves lives for free. Zero, zilch, nothing! Not a dime came out of being Spiderman. And no, there was no arguing about his unemployed status.

Actually, there was a lot of arguing about that. Only, it didn’t result in anything good.

He’d ended up shooting himself after the last argument. That was a very, _very_ bad decision.

Because, while for Wade, who spent most of his life alone, blowing his brains out randomly wasn’t such a big deal, hell, it was more of a routine, for Peter it was… Scarring. It was just a mess. Waking up after a short-lived death and the first thing you see is your lover’s red face crying his heart out for you. For your stupid ass, that thought ‘hey maybe this’ll help’, and not even take into account what it’ll do to your love, your heart, your only warmth in the whole damn universe.

He’d understood something that day, something scary and foreign, and still… Still he had a hard time believing it.

He loved Peter. That was a fact. And Peter said he loved him. And he did a lot of things to show it. And Wade did believe it. He _did_! It was just… It was _stupid_ to love him. Peter, strong and lean, cute and sexy, _smart,_ unbelievably smart, sweet and good, so, _so good_. In love. With him.

It was really, really stupid. Peter had no business being that stupid.

Finally, he got sick of just lazying out the day, awaiting Peter’s return, running through all that dark stuff in his head, and went to roam the apartment. Which left him very little room for roaming around.

He jumped the couch and landed right up in the kitchen (and seriously, why pretend they were separate spaces when it was all one big cluttered room? Something about keeping your dignity, perhaps?). He played around with the kitchen utensils, threw them back into the right drawer. Opened up the fridge and stared for a bit. Closed it, and went to check if the coffee and sugar cans were full (he designed them himself! Well, didn’t design, as much as reinvented them! They used to hold store-bought sliced peach, but with a little bit of paper and tape, some colors and sparkles he’d successfully bedazzled them! He especially loved the high-on sugar and coffee mini Petey he drew!). They weren’t. They weren’t empty, either, just past half-full. And then he went to check on the fridge again. He did that a lot. Peter told him it was normal. When was anything about him normal? This time, he actually looked around, and tried figuring out what to make for lover-boy. There were enough mushrooms left for a good omelette. Well, a one-egg omelette would have enough mushrooms, but it wouldn’t be as fulfilling as a two-eggs omelette. But that one would be too empty… Ok, so, one-egg omelette, a small salad, and tuna? No, the tastes were all mixed up. So maybe fries? They had a couple of potatoes left for fries. Fresh fries! That was good, actually. Petey would love the thought he wasn’t eating anything frozen and processed.  He grabbed a beer for himself, and satisfied with his decision went to take his phone from the couch.

Petey’s ringtone was a screamer, but he was too edgy about not being there for him, so he always kept it close by his side.

_Yo baby-love when r u cummmming hoome? :( ;( :’( :****_

The past week or so, Peter’s schedule became wonky and frantic. He’d get calls in the middle of the night to go to a meeting. A meeting! In the middle of post-sex-cuddles!

Peter tried explaining, and he did understand, only couldn’t care less about somebody from another dimension coming over and trying to wreck shit. What he cared about was if people had any manners? Didn’t they have parents to teach them not to dial after 9 pm?

Some time ago, he might’ve been the one nagging people, but now he had Peter and a responsibility towards him. He couldn’t have people thinking that his boyfriend’s a push-over. Which he was. By every other super-hero, and especially the Avengers. Peter was the one to call when you need to have your coffee made.

It hurt his heart to have to point this out to him. To Peter who idolized them. He did that too, for a while. They still share their love for Captain America, they do! But, after a while, after a looong while, he got the hint. Like everybody else before them, they just didn’t want him. Even after the times he’d helped them they still didn’t like him, and when they needed him they tried their best to push him to the margins.

He just had to find another way. Murder was a big no-no for Peter. And he knew the reason for it, so he stopped pushing. He was working on his crazies too! Petey was helping out a lot, actually. He was good at taking the edge off. Just thank Christ he didn’t insist on therapy. Thanks Mary and Joseph and Gabriel and God and his friends for not even mentioning it!

His phone rang with a message, as he was gulping down half of the bitter beer.

_In about 2-3 hours, not sure. Everybodys getting all heated up, thor broke 3 tables the hulk switched to and fro about 7 times. Tony brought out the jack. Miss you lots. Wish I was with u :( <3_

He pouted down at the phone. The whole day had been too depressing, leaving him out of humor to smile at what was going down over there.

_Wish I could play foootsie with u :( u have nice ankles. theyre bony. promise kisses nd massage when u get back <333_

He typed out the quick response and again, found himself with nothing better to do. Three hours was a lot of time. He was a quick cook, and there were only three potatoes to skin and chop.

So, he wandered over to the bedroom. He looked about for something to clean, only nothing _could_ be cleaned. It was cluttered, but everything that was there _had_ to be there. So, he took a seat at Peter’s desk which he dubbed ‘the work station’ and filtered through the papers and random gimmicks.

He loved watching Peter work. The hero would get all squinty-eyed and hunched up, so heavily concentrated, and _still_ he would find enough brains to keep Wade engaged in whatever he was doing. Peter told him a lot about what he had going on, dumbed it down for him, and he was happy he got most of the stuff. Peter was planning on selling his harmless gadgets on the internet, for extra money. God, it was humiliating.

He picked up a note-book and started skimming through it. It was full of equations and definitions, some repeating, some crossed over. He tried reading one entry that was mostly words and not numbers, when his eyes caught something on the corner of the page on the right.

_Sudden urge to give Wade a single flower. The image is too sweet!_

In the quick, stylized, right-slanted writing of Peter stood the declaration.

He… He had to smile. It just came. Little Petey writing out that silly little thing. In the middle of equations, even!

Grinning from ear-to-ear he turned a page over, and a couple more, trying to locate another entry. When he couldn’t find any immediately, he flipped pages back, eager to sate the sudden curiosity.

_Wade brought cupcakes. He’s such a cupcake!_

And in between the pages was a little pink wrapper, stuck there with age. This was before they moved together! He remembered the cupcakes, vaguely. Well, he didn’t remember them, he just remembered Petey saying caramel filling is the ‘besh evah!’ with a complete mouthful. Fuck, he loved that boy.

Amazed that such a little thing could earn him a mention in his notebook, he flipped back fast, careful not to get into one of his ‘black-outs’. As well as he handled his mental instability, getting rid of some things brought others to take their place.

A couple of pages and he found another.

_Wade gave me the sweetest birthday. He even gave Aunt May a present. He said ‘for bringing the boy up’. She called me after to tell me to marry him. Just might! :D_

Next to the text floated a few hearts. And Wade was about to have a heart-attack. Having the healing-factor to prevent that he settled on manic laughter. It hurt. Somehow, it hurt to read such sweet things about himself. Yes, Peter told him a lot of beautiful things, things out of romance-novels. But to know that a person is thinking such gorgeous things about you in private? It brought another light on things.

And marriage? Peter being happy about marrying him? Even in his imagination?

With shaking fingers he flipped pages back and forth and fast, reading the sentences he caught quickly.

_My A.B. kissed my knuckles goodbye. I love it!_

_Wade’s restless. Scared he’ll slip up. He hasn’t. And he won’t. _

_Tomorrow is the A.B. moving in day! Scared shitless, but I can’t wait for this!!!_

_Code-names for Wade: ~~THE babe~~ , bombshell (he’d love that!) , ~~the honey~~ ,  Winnie Pooh (bleh!!!) the perfect storm (lol he’d love that too) my boyfrannn (and a mocha-latte to go please!) ~~bed-bug~~ (he used that first) ~~DP- dear poodle~~ (he’d kill me) AB- amazing boyfriend_

_Too simple??_

_It’s on point._

_Wade is making huffy sounds behind me. Can’t concentrate due to semi-boner._

_The A.B. got sad. Nothing helps. Sometimes he’s too cold. And I get scared that he puts up a front for me, and never really tells me what’s going on. I just want him to trust me._

And the last.

**_Wade and I_ ** _~~had sex~~ made love yesterday. It’s dumb, but that’s the expression that fits it. **He’s amazing.** I was scared he would be too careful, or think me experienced, or find me resistant, or too complying, I don’t even know, I was just scared. He was perfect. Tender and so, so passionate, and how he lay me down, and his palms, they’re so big and strong and bumpy with the scars it’s all texture and it’s everywhere and it drives me insane and its really embarrassing and I feel like the worst kind of teenager sitting here in my room with aunt May making food in the kitchen writing down my first time with a man with Wade the mercenary whom I love I love him I do a lot love him so much and its nothing like they say when we got to it see I cant even write the word down again he was so so so perfect I loved it I love him it didn’t feel weird or foreign it felt so natural and he laughed and still made jokes but the nice kind like he could sense where I was uneasy and he just walked me through it and I got confident and the way he looked at me having a man look at me like that and to  make love and I’m understanding how it’s not about release these feelings and needs are just starting to build up in me and I want everything with him I want a life with him I need him and want him and he says so too he said it yesterday and I said a bunch of things and now it’s kind of super embarrassing but only when I think about from an outsiders view like me Peter who got bullied and uncle got shot and my parents left me and all the bad that ever happened and I got real happiness its so fulfilling so amazing I want him I love **Wade Wilson** _

The paragraph stood wobbly in places, determined in others, bolded letters where the pen stood and hesitated over the next sentence, written without a sense of punctuation as it went on in a rush, as if Peter couldn’t hold back his thoughts.

Peter. Perfect Peter. Calling _him_ perfect. Loving _him_ , wanting _him_. Peter, Peter, _Peter_ …

It was time for a slip.

So he put the notebook down, grabbed the gun he kept under his pillow and made a beeline for the bathroom.

He shuck off his clothing in a rush and stood in the bathtub. Finger on the trigger, he pulled, and there it was, sweet, _sweet release_. Right through the heart, and oh fuck, yes, he could feel all that pain, all that familiar pain…

The shot rang quietly enough thanks to the silencer, and he could breathe freely.

The vibrations of the hit rang across the tile walls and around him, the blood pouring out steadily, no spurts or flecks to stain the walls. Even in temporal suicide, he still had cleanliness to think of.

Finally, he let his body slump down and sprawl out on the cold of the bath floor.

_God_ , he missed this.

Just, letting your mind cloud over, getting _so_ impossibly warm and feeling everything just _stop_ , stop for a moment.

For a moment, he wanted freedom from sweet, _sweet_ Peter, and his love and the responsibility it was, and being an adult, and having to keep himself in check, and having to _try,_ having to actively try at something, having to work on himself, and for a moment, he just needed to be _dead_ , needed to go back somewhere only he knew, somewhere he could be alone, mindless and bodyless, alone, alone, _alone_ …

**Author's Note:**

> Some things need to be clarified:
> 
> I was trying out for a more realistic setting here. It's pretty obvious that both of our heroes are pretty poor, even Deadpool who while does get lots of money being an assassin in an unemployed state would be penniless. So, I wanted to see how a realistic domestic situation would work out between the two. I of course had to represent the difficulty of unemployment, especially for a character who has been so independent for most of his life, to have to make such a big compromise in the name of love, not matter how sweet or important the decision, it would most definitively have a big and hard impact on such a character. And realistically, Peter would never approve of killing. No matter how much I love to write him as understanding, and read him in situations where he doesn't mind as much, he just wouldn't. Never. So Wade would have to be the one to make the compromise.
> 
> Also, Wade's mental health. I don't believe any amount of love can truly 'heal' every scare that the character is represented as going through. A real person would just not be able to handle it, and I'm talking also about the sexual abuse combined with everything else, it's just not something a few smooches can get you out of. I tried being fair to the history of the character, and wrote out the 'sweet, sweet Peter' part with the notes as a test of character. If an average person would fawn over finding out the person they love thinks so highly of them, a character designed with the history of Wade just wouldn't be able to digest it as easily. 
> 
> I also tried to realize a more 'healthy' Wade. I put the character in a relationship of 2 years, more not counting dating, and had them living together. Now, on a deeper level we've seen the character Wade/Deadpool try and be responsible when dealing with people he cares for. By putting this character in a solid, whereas still new, relationship with a mortal younger partner I think he would feel pressured to be more of a responsible adult. And of his internal dialogue, I think a side of him would have subsided by having someone to express himself to daily. 
> 
> So, the fic is basically a dressing down of Deadpool into Wade Wilson, and the connection and longing he still has for that side of himself, while trying to hold on to the idea/ideas he has to/thinks he has to be for Peter. This is really not what I usually write, I'm a full-on-fluff kind of person, and so the writing may seem dead, but I wanted to betray the mechanical thinking alongside the jumpy thinking of the character.
> 
> Alright, this is too much words explaining a fic, but I felt I had to. 
> 
> Also, to everyone waiting on the multi-chapter fic, I HAVE HALF OF THE NEXT CHAPTER DONE and have the whole fic planned out, don't you worry your pretty little heads, I got computer access a week ago, so that's the excuse :D
> 
> Stay cool and keep inspiring me :D


End file.
